


Everlasting

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [39]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: The thing about Gavin is that he trusts too easily, or maybe he really is just that stupid.





	Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Miss-ingno who asked for Mavin pre-FAHc or FAHC angst with a happy ending with this prompt: 149: “Since when have we ever been friends?” 
> 
> :D?

Michael meets Gavin when he gets hired on by a small-time gang involved in stealing cars and drugs. Working their way up to bigger and better things and they have a hacker they need to keep an eye on. 

His new boss isn’t very clear if he’s there to keep anyone coming after him, or making sure the little shit doesn’t fuck them over, and Michael doesn’t ask.

Gavin is said hacker, being paid to handle the tech side of things, hack a system here or there. Make stealing those the fancy new cars showing up in Los Santos easier. (People making the mistake of thinking newer means better, forgetting that people like Michael and Gavin and all these other desperate fuckers make a living out of fucking them over. Keep up with technology and find a way to make it work for them.)

It’s not the worst thing anyone’s asked of him since he came to Los Santos, or at least it’s what he thought back at the beginning. 

Now, though - 

“Michael,” Gavin says, distracted by whatever he’s working on, so his heart’s not really in it. “Why doesn’t a dog try to eat its own bones?”

Michael sighs, because _this_. 

This is not the kind of shit his boss warned him about. (Honestly, though, he doubts anything could have prepared him for Gavin once he decided he liked Michael.)

He looks over to see Gavin looking at him, head tilted to the side, waiting for Michael's answer, and Michael - 

“The fuck does that even mean?”

Gavin lights up, delighted that Michael’s playing along and offers up a rambling, disjointed attempt at an explanation behind the question. Laying the groundwork, so to speak

Michael sighs, even as he wonders why the hell Gavin decided he was safe – or at least safe enough to pester with his stupid questions when he’s just fine playing meek little tech guy for the others.

“I don’t know, Gavin,” Michael says finally, because he knows how Gavin gets. How he just won’t just leave it alone now that he’d got Michael where he wants him. “They're _dogs_ , I doubt they know they even have bones.”

Gavin frowns, like sure, okay, that’s a logical point, but did Michael ever consider what would happen if dogs did know?

What then, Michael? What then?

Fucking Christ, this idiot.

“If you don’t get that done, the boss is going to want to know why,” Michael says, and their boss is hardly the most understanding guy out there. 

Gavin grumbles at Michael for being a poor sport, but he goes back to whatever he’s working on and lets Michael be bored as hell in peace.

========

Los Santos being what it is, they keep running into one another after that job runs its course.

Michael with a gun in his hand and bruises on his knuckles. Gavin with that little smirk of his and ever-evolving array of gadgets and tech and the kind of know-how that let him hack just about anything he set his mind to. 

It turns into a pattern with them, to the point Michael’s starting to get a little suspicious about how often they end up working together, but it’s never worth it to ask Gavin about it. Not with the way the little shit has of deflecting.

Part of him wonders when the odds are going to shift just enough that the end up on opposite sides of things, because that’s how it goes sometimes. 

Wonders what he’d do in a situation like that, because Gavin - 

Gavin has this way of getting under your skin. Those sharp eyes of his and clever mind and stupid little smile he gets sometimes, like he knows the best joke, just wait until you hear it, you’ll _love it_.

The kind of trouble he ends up in over and over again because he’s too goddamned smart for his own good and Los Santos is a city packed with secrets. 

Little bits of information people want to stay buried, and Gavin just loves unearthing them. Adding them to that stockpile of secrets and scandals and information about the city he gathers like some unbelievably stupid dragon.

It makes him a little angry, thinking about it, because Gavin’s so fucking stupid for someone so smart and it’s going to catch up to him one of these days.

But no, Gavin just goes along being an idiot and Michael, okay. Michael’s pretty stupid himself cause he likes the fucker, and that’s an entirely different kind of trouble because Gavin knows it.

Doesn’t quite depend on Michael looking out for him when they’re working with assholes who wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of the smartass with the computers, _but_.

Gavin’s a whole hell of a lot more reckless when Michael’s around to bail him out of trouble and that’s something, isn’t it, because Michael likes him too much to let someone rearrange his face.

...Yeah.

========

They end working for some idiot one day, the two of them. Greedy bastard who doesn’t listen when Gavin tells him it isn’t feasible to rob a bank he has his eye on with the intel and equipment they have available to them. 

Cuts Gavin loose and leaves him packing his shit up as he takes Michael and the other hired guns in anyway and everything goes to hell too damn fast.

Michael and a couple of the hired guns are the only ones who get out, the rest killed in the botched robbery or arrested by the cops in the getaway attempt because someone ratted them out. 

He loses the cops and heads to the warehouse, knowing the others have given up the pretense of being a crew, that it’s everyone for themselves now, Michael wasn’t made like that. 

Doesn’t give a shit about the assholes he’s been working with up until now. Greedy fucks out for themselves and fuck everyone else, but Gavin had been the least annoying part of the job.

It’s stupid, because he barely lost the cops himself, but he goes back to the place they were using as a base just in case someone got to Gavin before he cleared out, but the place is empty. Gavin long gone and Michael staring stupidly at the corner he’d set up in before he realizes he really should get the fuck out of there before the cops decided to check the place out.

Michael goes to ground for a little while after that. Tries to figure out which ratfuck sold them out even though there was no real loyalty tying them together, and nearly puts a bullet in Gavin when the fucker knocks on his door a week later. 

Looking small and uncertain bundled up in an oversize hoodie standing on Michael’s doorstep and twitchy like he hasn’t been sleeping. (Join the fucking’ club.)

“What do you want?”

It’s raining, because of course it is, and Gavin looks half-drowned. When he turns to look as someone down the street starts yelling about nothing, Michael sees he’s sporting one hell of a black eye.

“I - “ Gavin says, voice drying up as Michael stares at him. “I thought - “

“You thought what?” he asks, eyes narrowing as Gavin flinches.

“I thought since we were friends,” Gavin says, this dumb smile on his face because he’s an idiot, like it’s just that easy. “I could - “

Michael stares at this little idiot, and knows, knows, it’s a mistake to have gotten as close to him as he has, because Los Santos is not a merciful city. Isn’t _kind_.

This disaster of a job drove that point home for Michael, but Gavin – as usual – doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. (Or if he did, he did what he always does and assumed it didn’t apply to him.)

“Since when have we ever been friends?” he asks, puts a little bite in it.

They’re really, really not, and the sooner Gavin realizes it the better.

Gavin reels back like he’s been struck, wide-eyed and startled. 

Opens his mouth like he’s going to say something and then just...doesn’t. Blinking at Michael like an idiot.

Gavin looks like shit, and if things weren’t all that great for Michael the last few days, they look like they’ve been goddamned miserable for Gavin.

“Goddammit,” Michael mutters, and steps aside to let Gavin in. 

Ignores the shocked look on Gavin’s face.

“You can stay here tonight, but after that you’re on your own,” he says, because Los Santos hasn’t quite managed to kill his conscience just yet. 

========

Gavin wheedles an extra day out of Michael before he disappears on him, leaves a note with a string of numbers on it he assumes is the idiot’s phone number and a _”Thank you”_ scribbled on it behind.

Michael stares at it for a long moment before crumpling the paper up and tossing it into the trash because it’s the smart thing to do for both of them.

========

Michael gets into trouble, because of course he does.

Fucks up and ends up in the kin do debt that comes with a bullet if he can’t pay it off, and then to make matters worse he runs into this bastard named Walsh.

Smart fucker who finds people like Michael, dangles an offer they can’t refuse in front of them because they’ve gotten themselves in trouble and it’s too good to pass up. (It’s a trap in itself, agreeing to work for someone like him, signing away another part of himself Michael can’t afford, but that’s a price you have to pay sometimes.)

Walsh is always looking for an edge in Los Santos, so it makes sense that he found out about Gavin.

It was only a matter of time until someone realized what he was doing, would snatch him up and entice him into joining their crew, somehow him catch him up in a little trap and want to rip all the secrets he’s gathered out of that brain of his. 

The fact that Michael happens to be working for said asshole is just - 

It’s fucking perfect, isn’t it.

He’s too new to be trusted with something like this, it seems, so he finds out too late what Walsh has been up to. Hoping to use whatever Gavin’s dug up to his advantage, and it’s not going to end well for anyone. 

Michael isn’t there when Gavin gets dragged in, but he hears about it, Jesus Christ does he ever.

Walsh picks Michael to play muscle when he goes in to talk to Gavin. See if he’s going to be reasonable about things, and if he knew a damn thing about Gavin he’d know the little shit wouldn’t. (Too smart for his own good, but real stupid at the same time.)

Michael sees the flicker of surprise on Gavin’s face when he spots him, quickly locked down when Walsh starts posturing. 

Laying out the way things are going to be, and Gavin nodding along like he’s going to listen, play nice and give Walsh everything he wants. But Walsh doesn’t know Gavin like Michael does. Actually looks surprised when Gavin smiles at him, all big and friendly.

“Sod off.”

Michael doesn’t flinch when the guy Walsh leaves interrogations to punches Gavin. Just straight up fucking decks him so hard his head snaps the side. Doesn’t so much as bat an eye as Gavin makes this pained noise, blood dripping from his broken nose. Doesn’t do a goddamned thing as he drags Gavin’s head up by his hair so he’s looking at Walsh.

“You look like you need time to think things over,” Walsh says, smile on his face like he thinks Gavin’s just going roll over for him so easy. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”

And then Walsh takes his interrogator with him, the fucker shaking Gavin’s blood off his knuckles.

Gavin coughs, and Michael looks over to see him spitting blood out of his mouth.

“Christ,” Gavin mutters, and the asshole isn’t scared the way he should be, no. 

He’s _annoyed_.

Like this is just a mild inconvenience, and Walsh could stand to learn proper manners, couldn’t he.

Michael ignores him. Ignores the thoughtful way Gavin’s watching him, wheels turning and turning and turning in his head. 

Cocks his head just so, and laughs.

This quiet little thing, and nothing else from him for the next few hours, which Michael wasn’t expecting, but it sure as hell gives him time to think while Walsh lets Gavin stew. 

Think about that punch, his broken nose and what’s ahead of him if _that_ was Walsh’s opening play.

Michael’s just a low-level grunt to Walsh. Hired gun working for him because Michael has debts and Walsh was the best bet to seeing them paid off.

Surrounded by people in similar situations or dumb enough to think Walsh gives a fuck about any of them past what they can do for him.

Michael looks over when Gavin starts humming. Something vaguely familiar to it as he studies the room, blood on his face and in for a rough ride if he doesn’t roll over for Walsh. (He won’t, though. Michael knows he won’t, stubborn fuck that he is.)

They’re not friends, the two of them, because that’s a mistake here in Los Santos. Bound to get you killed sooner rather than alter, but it’s not like Michael has any love for Walsh or his crew, _so_.

========

Walsh makes Michael stay for the next round, listens to him offer Gavin empty promise after empty promise. Sees Gavin act like he’s going to do what he says and then do the exact fucking opposite, hears the noises he makes when someone works him over, hurts him just enough that anyone else would break and give Walsh everything he wants.

But not Gavin, no.

The little fucker just smiles with blood on his teeth and blackened eyes and says “no”, over and over again. (Never really looking at Michael because they’re not friends and this is just business. You know how it is in Los Santos, don’t you?)

Loses a few teeth and gets a cut over his cheek that’s probably going to scar because Walsh’s interrogator is wearing this heavy ring designed to hurt like that. Bruises and what have to be fractures with worse in his future if he doesn’t talk.

It’s all superficial stuff in the end, isn’t it. Nothing permanent because Walsh wants to scare Gavin into thinking about what that could be, if he doesn’t do what he wants. Spills all those little secrets and bits of information the easy way, or Walsh can just have his interrogator rip them out of him. 

Everyone breaks, don’t they. Hit that point where they just want it to _stop_ , willing to do anything for it. 

Gavin knows it as well as anyone else in this shithole of a room, and he just smiles.

Fucking _Christ._

“Jones!”

Walsh leads Michael out of the room, leaves Gavin with his interrogator and a locked door.

“You know who that is?”

For a moment Michael thinks Walsh _knows_. Found out Michael and Gavin have worked together before, that they’re - 

“Should I?” Michael asks, nice and stupid.

Hired muscle who doesn’t need to think for himself because he’s got Walsh to do that for him. 

Walsh stares at him for a long moment, and then barks out a laugh.

“Of course you don’t,” he mutters, because he thinks he’s the only one in the entire city with a working brain. “The Fakes, though. You know them?”

Michael does, because he’s not an idiot.

This group of assholes running around Los Santos like they think the city belongs to them. Winning some of the better known names around town to their side and making people like Walsh very, very nervous.

“Yeah,” Michael says, and swears he can feel a headache coming on.

“That little bastard,” Walsh says, and Michael raises his eyebrows because Gavin’s really gotten to him, dug down deep because the fucker is furious about being denied like this. “Word on the street is that he’s one of theirs now.”

It’s been a while since he’s seen Gavin. Too busy fucking himself over by being an idiot to find out what he’s been doing lately, and realizes he hasn’t run into him for a while now. Lot of jobs working for small-time crews and a gang or two between then and now and the times a hacker had been needed it hadn’t been Gavin. 

Michael glances at the room Gavin’s being kept in. 

Looks at Walsh.

Wonders how long it’s going to take before the Fakes realize he has Gavin, because they’ve gotten a certain reputation for not taking kindly to this kind of bullshit.

“You think he knows something,” Michael says slowly, still too stupid to function because that’s how Walsh likes them. 

Stupid as hell because that makes it easier for him to manipulate them.

Walsh thinks Gavin knows something to help him get at the Fakes, wants to pull as much information out of him as he can. Or maybe he’s going to try to wrangle a sweet deal out of the Fakes in exchange for Gavin.

“I’ve got a job for you,” Walsh says, and Michael has a pretty decent idea what it is because he’s a low-level grunt and expendable to people like him.

========

Walsh hands Michael a broken phone with bloody fingerprints on it. Gives him a location and a message to pass along, as though the fucking phone isn’t one on its own.

No secret, really, that Walsh expects the Fakes to kill him. (Messengers and bad news and all that.)

But this is a chance to do something, so Michael takes the phone and goes to the place Walsh told him to go. An underpass by a construction zone, no one around for a good couple of blocks.

He’s there for ten minutes tops before the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, glancing around to see if the Fakes decided to show and - 

“Fucking Christ.”

It’s the Vagabond, because of course it is.

Face paint ghostly pale in the dark, this menacing figure just _lurking_ like some kind of horror movie monster.

He’s just standing there, watching Michael, and it’s creepy as fuck.

Made a little worse when a little red dot comes to rest over Michael’s heart. There are rumors the Fakes picked up another sniper somewhere. Some asshole who dresses up like a cowboy reject in eye-searing colors.

“Walsh has a message for you,” Michael says, and holds out Gavin’s phone and waits.

If they kill him, at least they know who has Gavin. If they don’t, he can actually do something instead of standing by like a fucking idiot like he has been. Biting down on his anger and helplessness enough to choke on it because he’d only get Gavin killed if he tried anything on his own. 

Might get him out of that room, but Walsh and his goons would bring them down before they got clear of the building.

So.

The Vagabond takes the phone, eyes narrowing as he realizes who it belongs to, the bloody decorations Walsh left because he’s a real piece of shit.

“Does he,” the Vagabond says as he looks at Michael, somehow able to make it sound like a threat.

Michael smiles.

“Well,” he says. “The guy’s an idiot, so yeah.”

The fact that Michael isn’t like Walsh’s most trusted lackeys, isn’t beside himself he’s so loyal to the guy, seems to surprise the Vagabond. 

Michael sighs, because _this city_. Full of melodramatic fuckers who have definitely watched too many shitty movies to act like this.

“Not even for a million dollars,” he says, and grins at the way the Vagabond goes perfectly still.

(Fucker may not talk much, but goddamn does he have his tells.)

Nice to know Gavin’s made a nuisance of himself with these assholes too. Might make things a little easier.

“He’s a little shit, isn’t he?” Michael asks, and when the Vagabond grabs a handful of his shirt and pins him against the wall behind him, he lets him, goes with it. 

Sees the little red dot skip off his chest with the Vagabond in his face like this, thinks _fucking idiot_ even though he’s not sure who it’s directed at because like hell is this part scripted on the part of the Fakes.

“ _Where is he?_ ”

“Funny you should ask,” Michael says, and takes care not to bite his tongue when the Vagabond slams him up against the wall again, classic intimidation technique for a guy his size. Waits until he gets it out of his system and leans against the hands pinning him in place, shows his own teeth. “You want to get him back or just do this all night?”

This close, he can see the Vagabond blink in surprise. The way his eyes narrow as he pulls back, head cocked.

Finally fucking _listening_.

========

Walsh and his crew operate out of an old factory on the other side the tracks. Close to the water and an area the cops don’t bother going unless something newsworthy happens. Something the press gets wind of that would paint the LSPD in a bad light if they didn’t put on a show of giving a fuck.

Lots of room for all the gear, equipment he needs for the shit his crew gets up to. Weapons, vehicles. _Goods_.

Older tech because he’s the kind of moron who expects the reputation he’s made for himself to deter anyone from sniffing around. (And if that fails, well. Expendable hired goons like Michael and all that.)

The Vagabond and his partner send Michael back ahead of them and the reinforcements they call in. Give him an earpiece small enough that Walsh won’t spot it, tell him they’ll be listening in, and if he tries to fuck them over, _well_.

This isn’t trust, Michael knows.

It’s the Fakes, and desperation, and Michael in over his head from the start, so why not do something unbelievably stupid on top of it all?

It’s Gavin and the way he has of getting under your skin. Shitty jokes and worse hypothetical questions and this very unique way of looking at the world.

This little shit who looks at you and thinks _mine, now_ for whatever godforsaken reason until you start to think like that too. Look at that asshole and realize you never had a chance. 

“Jones,” Walsh says, obviously surprised to see him still alive. “You’re back.”

Michael nods, and follows Walsh as he leads the way to where Gavin is.

Another tooth on the floor and Gavin looking a little tired with all of this and just wants to get the hell out of here already, which, hey. 

Michael wants to burn this fucking place to the ground, look at how compatible their goals are. 

“Jones here delivered a message for me,” Walsh says as his interrogator makes sure Gavin’s paying attention.

One hand pressing down on his shoulder to keep him in place, the other in Gavin’s hair as he holds his head up. 

Michael slides a look at Walsh, all smug bastard like he thinks anything good is coming him way after this.

Gavin looks at Michael. Actually fucking _looks_ at him for the first time since Walsh brought him here.

“Lovely,” Gavin says, a very clear _”And?”_ in there.

Walsh looks at Michael, who feels the corner of his mouth tick up.

“A million dollars but - ” Michael says, and there’s no signal, really, just Michael being in the right place at the right time to play his part.

Walsh’s interrogator with his hands occupied and Walsh being the kind of idiot who relies a little too heavily on his hired guns. The sort who got sloppy once he made it to a place where he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty, and Michael?

He’s a hired gun, isn’t he. Out there doing other people’s dirty work and smart enough to know he doesn’t have the luxury of getting soft, complacent. Not in a place like Los Santos.

Michael watches realization dawn on Gavin, sees the frown on the interrogators face. Hears Walsh’s confused, “What the fuck?”, and pulls his gun.

He’s no marksman, Michael, but this close even he can’t miss.

The interrogator goes down bloody and stays there. Walsh takes a little longer because he had enough time to try to dodge. Turns what should be a clean kill into something that’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more, choking on blood and threats without teeth behind them. (Give it a few minutes and he’ll figure it out for himself, though.)

Michael crouches beside him, tugs that stupid shiny gun of his that’s more for display than function and throws it over his shoulder out of the fucker’s reach. _Smiles_ as gunfire sounds outside the room and Walsh finally seems to realize he’s made a mistake.

“I’ll take these,” Michael says, and grabs the keys to the handcuffs they’ve got Gavin in as he rises to his feet.

He keeps an eye on Walsh as he moves over to Gavin who’s watching all this so very quietly, eyes on Michael.

“Hey,” Michael says. “What do you say we get the fuck out of here?”

Gavin glances at the bodies – one dead, the other well on his way there, cocks his head at all the shooting and screaming going on outside the room they’re in – and laughs.

========

Michael can feel the Vagabond watching him, all dark menace and this overdone sense of drama that’s actually fucking hilarious. His sniper buddy is leaning against this fucking monstrosity of a vehicle in purples and oranges, allowing Michael and Gavin to have a moment.

There are others all over the place packing up the shit won’t be needing anymore while others plant explosives and the like. Making a statement, or maybe this is just how the Fakes always deal with fuckers who overstep, who knows.

“Michael,” Gavin says, and those missing teeth are making themselves known with the way his words don’t come out quite right. “Thank you.”

Michael closes his eyes, sees Gavin in that room again, blood and bruises and this steady, quiet defiance because goddamn, he’s a stubborn bastard.

“Fuck off,” he says, throat tight. “We’re not - “

There’s a quiet laugh, soft hiss of pain.

“ - friends, no,” Gavin agrees, and when Michael opens his eyes the idiot’s smiling at him. “Of course not.”

That would be so fucking stupid in a place like this, wouldn’t it. 

One of the Fakes trots over, hands Gavin a little device, this sharp grin on his face as he gathers up his minions and drives off in the unmarked vans loaded down with contraband.

Successfully recovering one of their own and making a tidy profit off the fucker who made the worst mistake possible in this city, not a bad night for them, really.

Michael looks at Gavin, who’s staring down at the detonator, slight frown on his face.

“You Americans and your fascination with explosions,” he says with a little shake of his head, like he isn’t as bad as them. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael says, and Gavin presses the button.

========

A week later Gavin shows up on his doorstep with a job offer from his boss.

Michael glances at the car parked across the street from his building, this mean looking thing with the Vagabond behind the wheel. Looks at Gavin who flashes him this sly little grin, just enough to show off these ridiculous gold teeth he’s gotten to replace his missing ones as he waits for Michael’s answer.

He thinks about it, he does.

All these pros and cons, worries about ending up in a shitty situation like the one with Walsh, _but_.

Gavin seems pretty pleased with things. 

Working for Ramsey. The way the Fakes operate in the city. Having the fucking Vagabond acting like a fussy mother hen over him. 

There’s this look on his face, like he’s just going to come back again and again until he wears Michael down or Michael chases him off again. (And even then, he’d just come right back, wouldn’t he, stupid, stubborn fuck.)

“Yeah, sure.” Michael finally says, because it’s not like he could do worse for himself than he already has “Why the fuck not.”

And if Michael’s being completely honest with himself, Gavin being part of it all is a major deciding factor, because he’s just that stupid. (Kind of worth it though, for the look on Gavin’s face.)


End file.
